


3765

by wonderfulWonderful505



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Time Travel, End of the World, Hogwarts Era, Master of Death Harry Potter, No Beta, Time Travel Fix-It
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-28
Updated: 2019-05-28
Packaged: 2020-03-26 09:43:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19003246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wonderfulWonderful505/pseuds/wonderfulWonderful505
Summary: The war between muggles and magic folk has ended and there is one being left alive on planet Earth. Harrison is bored already and he's only been alone for 34 minutes, he would never be able to wait around for Life and Fate to get Earth up and running again. Death presents him with an idea that he could hardly refuse; the chance to go back and do it all all again. To do it all differently and, hopefully, life on Earth will last a bit longer this time.





	3765

**Author's Note:**

> This is just something I churned out. I have no idea whether I will continue this or not but let me know what you think and if you think it should go on and I'll see what I can come up with! Anyway, I hope you enjoy :)

Harrison was old. Very old. So old that he could never call himself  _ Harry _ with a straight face again. 

Harry was such a young name, and for someone one thousand seven hundred and eighty four years old; a young name was not something he wished to be called. 

Harrison was standing alone. The world around him was desolate. Charred ground and smouldering ruins as far as the eye could see. There was nothing left of the world and Harrison was really quite alone.

Thirty four minutes ago, all but one life form on planet Earth ceased to exist. There was nothing left but Harrison. Nothing in the seas, the forests, the mountains or the plains. Nothing left of the cities, towns, villages or camps. Mankind had destroyed themselves and taken everything else along with them. The only reason Harrison was still standing was simply the fact that he couldn’t die. 

He could feel the radiation brushing up against his skin, lovingly caressing the barrier he had erected against it. Viruses and infections pushing and prodding, longing for a break in the impenetrable force that kept him alive. 

Harrison was slowly turning in a circle. Eyes surveying the damage. He knew how this had happened, of course. He had lived through it after all. He knew the catalyst for the ultimate destruction of the Earth as it was, was the ignorance of the muggles. Muggles seemed to always be the cause for such earth shattering destruction. Even during the five wizarding wars Harrison had witnessed, the land was never as broken afterwards as it was after a muggle war. 

The muggles had found out about the wizarding world some time around the turn of the 22nd century. They held out a lot longer than Harrison had originally anticipated, especially since the sixth wizarding war saw the destruction of both the Eiffel Tower and the Tower of London. Two such prominent landmarks were destroyed with seemingly no cause and the muggles did what they do best. They explained it away with no logic or reason backing them up. 

By that point, Magic had been weakened by the ridiculous tendency of wizards to think they knew what was best for her. Purebloods had weakened their power through inbreeding and their refusal to allow new blood into their lines, and were forced, despite their ancient names and practice of the Olde Ways, to the bottom of the societal ladder. Muggleborns were found to be descended from squibs the ancient lines had cast out to the muggle world decades before, and the muggle blood in the generations before their birth allowed the magic in their line to reset, in a way. Their power was once again a gift from the Earth and Magic herself and, should they have worshiped her as she deserved, they would have become as powerful as the old lines once were. The wizarding world found that if muggleborns and purebloods came together, their offspring would benefit from the mixing of power and blood and become stronger than them both. 

However, they were too late. Magic had already begun to recede from her place on this earth. Content, as Harrison was not, to wait out the destruction and inevitable coming of a new world. However long that would take. 

Once wizards and muggles were exposed to one another there were a few years where Harrison thought the world might actually turn out alright. Technology and magic was working together in a way he had never seen before and it truly was a beautiful sight to behold. Then, one muggle decided that he deserved more. The president of the Southern European Alliance got it into his head that he deserved to have the ability to use magic. If his cousin, a muggleborn managing the Spanish Quidditch team at the time, could have magic and waste it away on something so frivolous as  _ sport _ then someone as powerful and influential as him deserved it as well. 

Then, of course, other muggles jumped on the bandwagon and eventually decided that, if they couldn’t have magic then no one deserved it. War broke out and the destruction was endless. Harrison was so overworked during that time he had to retreat to the in-between more than a few dozen times just to escape the influx of souls departing the world. 

He finished his circle, took a deep breath and spoke for the first time in what felt like years. “Is that all of them?” He called out. If there was anyone alive to witness this, they would have thought Harrison crazy for calling out into an isolated plane. 

But, there was a soft ripple in the air and large figure appeared in front of him. It seemed to be humanoid in shape, around seven feet tall and obscured by a large, midnight black cloak with the hood up. The material was so black it seemed to suck in all the colour from the world around it. Pulling in the browns, oranges and yellows from its barren surroundings and leaving behind a state of grey that blurred the lines between shapes, and left Harrison feeling like he was once again almost blind. 

“That is all of them, Master,” the cloaked figure said. A thin raspy voice protruded out of the thick hood. “Whatever shall we do now?” 

Harrison hmmed and turned once again, surveying the scene in front of him as if he was hoping it had changed. “Well, I guess I should say ‘job well done’ old friend.” The raspy voice chuckled and Harrison smirked in response. “Though I can’t imagine we would be able to entertain ourselves for long enough for Life and Fate get this place up and running again,” Harrison said and hmmed again. “I truly thought it would all last longer.” 

“Perhaps, Master, it was meant to,” the cloaked figure said with a wisdom only a being of his age could achieve. 

“What do you mean?” 

“We both know that Fate has always enjoyed intervening when it comes to you, Master. Perhaps if she didn’t stick her nose in  _ my _ Master’s life then this all could have been avoided and the world would have lasted a bit longer.” 

“You’re saying I’m the catalyst aren’t you, Death?” Harrison asked with the long suffering sigh of someone who knew just how much influence Fate had on his life. With the being’s nod, Harrison sighed again. “Well, what can we do about it now?” 

“We could always go back,” Death said, “and you could do it all over again. This time the right way.” 

The being watched as Harrison slowly turned in a circle once more. Harrison took in his surroundings once again. Noting the worthless state his world had come to. “I guess it wouldn’t do any harm,” he said and sighed a third time before looking back at his companion. He really was getting old. Perhaps going back would make him feel young again. 

* * *

Harrison was surrounded by the greying fog of the in-between. Like the surrounding of Death’s cloak, the colour seemed leached out of this world, blurring the shapes around him so he was the only solid form. It had unnerved him at first. When he was seventeen and the Dark Lord had just fired the Killing Curse at him for a second time. Coming here was not a comfort to his stressed and hormone-riddled body. Now though, after more than a century to get used to it, Harrison found the in-between calming. The grey blur contrasted so completely with the harsh, brutal colours of the mortal world and allowed him to clear his mind.

If someone were to attempt to breach Harrison’s mind, they would be sucked into a replica of this unique place and left to wander the formless world until he found them and pushed them back out again. He had never been overly good at mind magics but time had made Harrison was especially proud of his Occlumency barriers.

“How is this going to work?” he asked the being, as the large, cloaked figure of Death appeared in front of him, announced by a soft ripple in the air.

“You will appear in a fixed moment in time, in your old body but with all the memories you retain at this moment,” Death explained. “You will, of course, still be my Master, therefore your core will be the same as it is currently and all those pesky compulsions and potions in your system will be removed. I can do nothing about the weak physical state of your younger body, however.” 

Nodding along to Death’s explanation, Harrison considered. “Okay, when will this fixed moment be?’ 

“That is for Magic and Time to decide, although there are only two moments that would work advantageously for the world.” 

“You can’t tell me when they are, can you?” Harrison asked, already knowing the answer but trying anyway. 

“Yes, I can actually,” the dark being said with a chuckle. “It would just be more fun if it’s a surprise. You do work better under pressure, you know.” 

Harrison rolled his eyes at his companion. He knew Death would enjoy watching him struggle far too much. He couldn’t find it in himself to blame him though, there had been far too little for them to do lately. “Okay,” he said. 

A glowing light erupted out of the centre of Harrison’s chest. It increased in intensity and Harrison had to close his eyes as it spread to encompass the whole of his body. He felt a tugging sensation in his gut, not dissimilar to that of a portkey, and he was pulled back into the mortal world. 

* * *

Harrison opened his eyes and was struck with the familiar scene of the graveyard in Little Hangleton. He stood up slowly, adjusting to his shortened stature and weakened body. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of the glowing blue light of Tri-wizard cup.

Fourth year then. The resurrection of Lord Voldemort. 

Cedric Diggory was standing slowly to Harrison’s right, looking around the graveyard with trepidation. The purple aura around him indicated the inevitability of his death. This must be the fixed point Death was talking about. He wondered what the other point was and made a mental note to ask Death later, when movement came from the crypt behind Cedric.

_ “Kill the spare” _ rang out through the graveyard in a chilling, hissing tenor, and in a flash of green light Cedric Diggory was dead. Harrison watched his soul leave the mortal world, escorted by a black cloaked reaper, and stopped briefly to sort his incoming. Death was an efficient worker and rarely needed Harrison’s help with the sorting process (unless of course there was a world ending war going on) but Harrison liked to chip in every now and then. He knew Death appreciated his help, whether he showed it or not. 

Pettigrew walked out of the crypt, Voldemort homunculus secured in his arms and Harrison saw red.  

Harrison was very old and had witnessed and contributed to the deaths of a great many people. He was no longer considered a wizard, more a sentient immortal being who ultimately decided the fate of souls once they died. Death and his reapers collected the souls and together, Harrison and Death sorted the departed souls into three categories; those destined for peace, those destined for reincarnation and those who deserve neither eternal happiness or a second chance. Those souls resided forever in the in-between and never felt the sense of calming there that Harrison was afforded. 

All this equated to Harrison being fairly distant with his emotions whenever he interacted with mortals, as he knew he needed to be unbiased to sort souls impartially. Peter Pettigrew, however, was one of the few beings Harrison had never been able to treat with detachment. He  _ hated _ the stupid rat and would gladly create a dimension of Hell purely for the snivelling traitor to reside in. The in-between seemed too kind, in Harrison’s opinion and  _ life  _ was surely too kind as well. 

For as much as Harrison was a sentient immortal being, rather than a normal wizard, he still had parents and he still remembered the reason why his parents had departed to peace before he could ever fully know them. That reason was Peter Pettigrew and Harrison would never forgive him.

The homunculus was placed into the deep cauldron in the centre of the clearing and Pettigrew advanced on Harrison. Unwilling to seem weak and play out events as they had previously happened, Harrison raised a hand to the rat-like wizard and stunned him. Stepping over, and perhaps just a little bit  _ on _ , the crumpled body of Pettigrew, Harrison advanced on the cauldron and thought about his plan of attack. 

His goals; find a way to ensure the strength of Magic in the mortal world, prolong the separation of the magical and muggle worlds and somehow, save the Earth from becoming the radiation poisoned wasteland he had just left. 

His plan; raise a sane and competent Lord Voldemort from his embarrassing half-bodied state and work with him to ensure his goals. 

Ever the Gryffindor, Harrison thought this was more than enough to go on to succeed. He reached the edge of the cauldron, summoned a bone from the grave of Tom Riddle Senior, took great pleasure in slicing off the hand of Pettigrew and pricked his finger allowing a single drop of his blood to enter the potion. As the magic swirled and sparked, creating a body from the parts of others, Harrison pulled on his magic and summoned the fractured pieces of Voldemort’s soul. He absently realised a fraction was still embedded within his trademark scar, and decided, on a whim, to leave it there for the time being. Tom would undoubtedly be furious that his quest for immortality had been reversed, so Harrison decided a compromise would be best in order to reason with the wizard. The Master of Death could never be taken by Death, therefore Tom’s soul would be anchored to the mortal world for as long as he continued to work amicably with Harrison to complete his goals. That could be said even if Voldemort had multiple horcruxes, but he didn’t need to know that just yet. 

The ritual had completed by the time a softly glowing, red ball of light appeared in Harrison’s hands and before him, in all his glory, stood Tom Riddle; aka Lord Voldemort. The alterations Harrison had made to the ritual allowed the wizard to obtain his former body; all chestnut hair, pale, aristocratic features and piercing red eyes. Tom turned from his place in the clearing to face Harrison and, before he could utter a single word, Harrison pushed the ball of light into his chest. Tom fell to his knees in agony as his soul pieces reconnected and his screams echoed across the graveyard. 

Harrison waited for the light to fade from Tom before he approached his crumpled form and waved his hand vaguely along his body. The diagnostic scan determined Tom’s new body was functioning well and that 99.91% of the wizard’s soul was currently residing within him. A small flick of Harrison’s wrist allowed the pain in Tom’s body to ease and increased the rate at which his core replenished. He manoeuvred Tom so he was sitting against the grave of his hated Father and stepped back to allow him space to recover on his own. 

Tom’s eyes opened as his breathing slowed down and a small groan escaped his lips. He looked around the graveyard before his eyes locked on Harrison reclining against another headstone a few feet away. “Harry Potter,” he rasped and Harrison quickly conjured a glass, filled it with water and floated it towards an almost grateful Dark Lord. 

“I prefer Harrison, actually,” he said once Tom had emptied the glass, filled it and emptied it again. Resurrection must be tiring, Harrison concluded. “But, yes. That is me.” 

“What did you do to me?” Tom gestured to his new and decidedly not snake-like body and made to stand up. 

“I’d stay sitting if I were you,” Harrison said with a raised eyebrow. Lord Voldemort, never one to listen to the reason of others continued anyway, pushing himself up from the ground before his arm gave out and he crumpled back against the gravestone. “I told you so,” Harrison was met with a ruby red glare and chuckled a little as Tom moved into a more comfortable seated position. 

“Well?” Tom asked once Harrison’s chuckles died out. 

“It wasn’t much really,” Harrison started. “I altered the ritual a little so you would be in a less … icky body.” Harrison chuckled again at the unimpressed glare he received. “One drop of my blood instead of your originally planned ‘ _ blood of the enemy forcibly taken’ _  restored you to your old body. And then I reconnected you with the fractured pieces of your soul to restore your previous mental state. I couldn’t very well work with an  _ insane _ sociopath could I? You’ll do just fine.” 

“You destroyed my horcruxes?” Tom growled, his voice dripping with fury and his magic rippling around him uncontrolled waves. Harrison was sure that if he had the strength, Tom would be cursing anything that moved. He was glad he had the foresight to explain this while the Dark Lord was incapacitated both magically and physically. Not that Tom could even hope of touching Harrison. 

“No, were you even listening to me?” Tom glared again but the fury of his magic seemed to lessen a fraction. “I said I reconnected you with the pieces of your soul. You now are the proud owner of 99.91% of a fully functioning soul.” Harrison grinned at the look of confusion that flashed briefly across Tom’s face. It seemed that he was regaining strength if he could hide his emotions so quickly already. 

“99.91%?” Tom asked, trying admirably to keep the curiosity out of his voice. Harrison knew how much Tom Riddle loved to just  _ know _ things. 

“When you came to kill me thirteen years ago, your poor soul was so damaged that the rebounding curse caused you to make a horcrux unknowingly.” He stared at Tom waiting for the look of recognition that passed over his eyes. “Yes, I am your horcrux and, since I can never die, it will be safe with me for as long as you wish to continue living and as long as you work with me. We were prophesied equals after all.” 

Harrison let Tom think for a while, watching amused as the flashes of emotion passed over the usually stony face. Eventually, Tom seemed to have narrowed down his, no doubt infinite, questions and looked up at him. “You can never die?” he asked first. 

“I thought that would be your first question,” Harrison said, still amused at the novelty of his situation. Harry Potter and Lord Voldemort sitting in an abandoned graveyard having a civil conversation. Whatever would Dumbledore say? “When I was seventeen, I collected all three of the Deathly Hallows. That, along with my Peverell blood allowed me to become the Master of Death. When you AKed me for the second time, I found myself in the in-between, had an exasperating conversation with Dumbledore, then found myself back in my body; minus your horcrux. It took me a while to figure out what it all meant,” he chuckled. “In my defence I was distracted by stopping a Dark Lord and all of his followers from murdering a school full of children after I came back.” Tom did not look impressed, much to Harrison’s disappointment. “Then I was getting accused of being a Dark Lord myself, then I was on the run again. It was all very stressful.” He waved a hand dismissively and Tom raised an eyebrow at Harrison. He realised he should probably get to the point.

“But, once I found myself on the receiving end of yet another Killing Curse, this once courtesy of my best friend, I found myself talking to Death. He apologised for not being there the first time, explained what was happening, allowed me to accept my responsibilities and so began a wondrous working relationship between Death and his Master.”  Tom was looking at Harrison like he’d completely lost his mind but he decided to plough through the particulars and let Tom figure it out in his own time. “I can never die because, quite simply, I’m not human anymore. I am the sentient immortal being who ultimately decides the fate of souls once they depart the mortal world.” Tom looked rather pale at this and Harrison really couldn’t blame him. It was a lot to take in and even Harrison had trouble believing it sometimes. 

“The Master of Death,” Tom said and Harrison nodded, content to allow the wizard to work through his thoughts. “You said when you were seventeen, does that mean that you’ve come back in time?” Harrison nodded again and Tom huffed frustratedly, obviously not content with non-verbal answers. “How far?” he asked finally. 

Harrison smiled. It was a deadly smile. One honed after decades of intimidating mortals with his mere presence. “From the end of the world,” he said finally, knowing just how dramatic he was being and revelling in it. 

“And when exactly is that?” 

“It was one thousand, seven hundred and seventy years in the future.” Harrison grinned again. He loved seeing intelligent people think, they always had the most entertaining expressions on their faces. 

“Was?” Tom was clearly getting frustrated now and just wanted the whole story. Harrison was not going to answer that which he hadn’t been asked however, and Tom needed to know that. 

“Well, now that I’m here, anything could happen.” 


End file.
